Part I Chapter 5
He shook his head in denial before he waved his arm toward the palace. "This . . . this is all a dream and I know it. One day, all too soon, I'm going to wake up and it'll be over. I'm going to be right back where I was. Doing things I don't want to do. Being groped and shoved around and beaten. There's no need to pretend otherwise."
How could I make him feel safe and secure? "Why won't you take my word and believe me? The past is over. You have a new future now. Boraxis is on his way to Sumer to deliver my letter to my best friend. Once I have her word, we'll have a safe place where you can go and no one will ever harm you again.
His expression was bleak and cold. "I don't know how to trust, Ryssa. Not you or anyone else. People are unpredictable. The gods more so. Things happen that are out of our control. I want to believe you, I do. But all I hear are the gods' voices, and yours. And then I see things . . . things I don't want to see."
"What kinds of things?"
He turned away and headed for his room.
I ran after him and pulled him to a stop. "Tell me. What do you see?"
"I see myself begging for a mercy that never comes. I see myself cast out into the streets with no place to rest and no one around me willing to help without exacting a payment I don't want to make."
Gods, how I wanted to make him trust in me and the future I was going to make sure he had. "This isn't a dream, Acheron. It's real and I'm not going to let you return to Atlantis. We will find you a home that is safe."
He looked away, his eyes stormy. "Why hasn't Father come? If he loves me as you say, why hasn't he come in all these months to see me? And why are you trying to find me another home?"
"He's busy." I couldn't bear even now to tell him the harsh truth.
"You keep saying that and I try to believe you. But do you know what I remember of him?"
I was almost afraid to ask. "What?"
"I see him holding you away from me while Idikos jerked me out of the room. I've never forgotten the hatred that burned in Father's eyes as he glared at me. I had nightmares for years over that look. And now you tell me that he's forgotten it." A muscle worked in his jaw. "Should I really believe you?"
No, he shouldn't. I was lying, but I couldn't ever let him know the truth. "One day you're going to believe in me, Acheron."
"I hope so, Ryssa. I really do. I want to believe desperately, but I can't afford to be disappointed again. I'm tired of it."
I watched as he turned away and left me standing there. He was so beautiful. Tall. Proud. In spite of everything, he still maintained a dignity I couldn't fathom.
"I love you, Acheron," I whispered, wishing that I wasn't the only one in my family who felt that way toward him.
Why couldn't they see what I did?
And inside was the pain that knew just how right Acheron was. Sooner or later, our father would come. Should that day happen, Father would never forgive me for taking Acheron out of Atlantis. He would never forgive me for the lying letters I'd written about my whereabouts or the people I'd had Boraxis pay on his journey to fool him. I had no doubt that by now both Father and Estes were looking for us while Boraxis scouted a safe haven for Acheron in another country or kingdom.
But I was doing what I thought best for my brother. All I could hope for was that I could guarantee his freedom and happiness-to keep my promises to him. Once he was safely away, I'd return to Didymos and face my father and his wrath.
For Acheron, I would do anything, even jeopardize my own freedom. I only hoped that Boraxis returned before my father thought to search for us here.
May the gods have mercy on us both should that happen.
March 18, 9531 BC
The warmer weather arrived miraculously as Persephone must have returned to her mother's bosom. All my life, I've favored springtime. The rebirth of the land and the beauty. In particular, our island was lovely as the workers come to plant seeds and sing.
But this year, I felt dread as I awaited word of Boraxis. He'd sent a missive only a few days ago, that there might be a place in the Kiza kingdom for Acheron. They have a queen who was rumored to be elderly and kind. Her own sons were dead, and perhaps she might welcome an exiled prince.
I hoped with all my heart that this would be so.
And as each day passes, I fear that Father will extend his search to our oasis. But I am ever hopeful that he might instead find me a husband, and we will be able to bring Acheron into our household so that I can protect him. Then he would be forever beyond my father or uncle's touch.
I won't think of that for now.
The best part of being here has been that the servants have all accepted Acheron and his quirks, and we've formed a very close family of sorts. In Acheron, I've found the brother I've always wanted. Where Styxx is petulant, Acheron has finally learned to laugh without fear of drawing unwanted notice.
Today, I found him with Maia out in the garden. She'd been drawing letters in the dirt with a stick and teaching them to Acheron.
It was then I remembered what he'd told me in Atlantis about being illiterate-the shame that confession had caused him.
"May I help?" I asked as I approached them.
Maia leaned toward Acheron and spoke in that typically loud whisper of hers that was as charming as it was sweet. "She'll make a much better teacher than me. She knows all the letters and how they make words. I only know a few."
Acheron smiled at me. "Would you please?"
His request shocked me to my core. He'd never asked for anything before.
"Absolutely." Taking the stick from Maia, I began lessons for both of them so that they could read.
Acheron was a clever student and absorbed everything I showed him with an aptitude that was absolutely miraculous. "Are Atlantean letters different than the Greek?" he asked as I made my way through the alphabet.
"A few are. They have several vowel diphthongs that we lack."
Maia frowned. "Is their language like our Greek?"
I smiled at her innocent question. "Their language can be very similar to ours. So much so that sometimes you can understand it without knowing the meaning of the words. But it is a separate language. I personally know very little, but Acheron speaks it fluently."
Her face brightened as she turned to face him. "Can you teach it to me?"
Reservation glowed deep in his eyes. "If you like. But it's not a pretty language."
I completely disagreed. Unlike Greek, there was a melodic lilting quality to the Atlantean language that made it seem as if they sang whenever they spoke. It was a joy to hear, but then given Acheron's experiences in Atlantis I could well understand his sentiment about the ugliness of the people and their language.